


Tell the truth (but tell it slant)

by RedWritingHood



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Clark is very observant, Clark sees through you Bruce, Clark the All-Seeing, Gen, He sees all!!!, I'll stop tagging now, That's an exaggeration, not really - Freeform, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 11:08:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12747102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedWritingHood/pseuds/RedWritingHood
Summary: Clark has always been a good judge of character.It's why he looks at Bruce Wayne, looks past the vapid smile and the drink in his hand and the careless gestures and sees someone dangerous.





	Tell the truth (but tell it slant)

Clark has always been a good judge of character. He sees things as clearly as the blue of his own eyes. He heard a teacher once say that it was like he could see into your soul.

He doesn't know about that. He just sees people.

It's why he would always visit abrupt, rude old Mr. Ferroy so much. As a child, his first thought upon seeing the gray-haired, grizzled, frowning old man wasn't ' _He looks mean_.' His first thought was ' _He looks sad_.' It's why he didn't ask Lana Lang to prom, as everyone was expecting him to, and instead encouraged her to ask their classmate, Michelle Sumner. It's why he went slightly breathless, still does, at the sight of Lois Lane, because she is so strong, like a rock, or a boulder, or an entire cliff in the midst of a storm. In his head, he's taken to calling her a crusader, and-- it's possibly the most accurate description he can think of for her, besides 'rock'-- but she probably wouldn't take that in the spirit it was meant. He can imagine her saying, "That is probably the oddest insult anyone's ever given me."

"It's not an insult," he'd reply.

"Oh. Well, in that case, that's probably the oddest compliment--"

It's an amusing thought-- but he's gotten off-track.

Clark has always been a good judge of character.

It's why he looks at Bruce Wayne, looks past the vapid smile and the drink in his hand and the careless gestures and sees someone dangerous.

He's at a gala hosted at Wayne Manor as Clark Kent, journalist. It's crowded with wealthy, chatting, preening, laughing, glittering people. They miss the predator that walks among them.

Wayne's smile is so empty Clark wonders if he even notices it anymore. And then Wayne calls over his adoptive son-- " _Dickie! Come over here, I want you to meet someone_ "-- and when the boy walks over he places a hand on his shoulder, and-- yes, there's warmth in that touch. Young Richard Grayson smiles easily, charmingly, at the guests, but the smile he sent Wayne when he first moved over to him, there was no performance in that.

It seems Mr. Wayne and his ward are running a long con on the ladies and gents of society, Clark observes. But not just them. Whoever cares about or is interested in Bruce Wayne, whether in the tabloids or in person, will be met with that facsimile of a smile and an obtuse remark on whatever is the topic at hand.

Clark wonders why the charade. He could probably find out, but-- despite the potentially invasive aspect of his powers ( _he will forever remember with embarrassment the moment when he accidentally got a look into the girls' locker room at school. He was in the gym room at the time and got a basketball to the head, which he immediately forgave because honestly, even though it wasn't on purpose he kind of deserved it. He confessed to his mother about it when he got home, and she laughed so hard she choked_ ) and his occupation, he has never been a person to snoop around just because he could. Now, if he got any uneasy feeling at all around Bruce Wayne, it would be a different story-- but he can sense no malice in the man.

Clark has always been a good judge of character.

"Ah, Mr-- Clint, is it?" Wayne calls, ambling over, champagne glass held carelessly tilted in one hand. Grayson has wandered away to the buffet table. "From The Planet?"

"Clark Kent, sir," Clark corrects, knowing the blunder was on purpose.

"Right, Kent." Wayne waves the hand with the champagne glass as if to dismiss the mistake. The liquid sloshes dangerously. Wayne appears not to notice. "Well, anyhow, welcome to Gotham. How are you finding your visit?"

"Fine," Clark replies. "Though I have yet to run into the Batman."

Wayne's eyebrow twitches, but he throws his head back and laughs. "Why would you want to run into that fellow? Madman in a bat suit, 'swat he is." He tosses back his drink, but his eyes are on Clark, sharp and intent. Clark might have been fooled if it weren't for those eyes-- his eyes give him away.

"Oh?" Clark tilts his head slightly. "I hear he's done a lot of good. Saved a lot of lives. Statistically, crime is at an all-time low."

"Yes, but that's just statistics. What about all these new freaks that've come out of the woodwork since he appeared? There were certainly no crazy murderous clowns or people dressed like scarecrows before he came along." Wayne's mouth curls bitterlly.

"That can't be the fault of one man," Clark counters. "Even if he never emerged, you can't say that these other people wouldn't have made an appearance. This way, at least there's someone to fight them."

The billionaire's lips quirk sardonically. "Just point him at them like a battering ram?"

Clark has to think carefully about what to say. "...Do you know basketball, Mr. Wayne?"

The man blinks, surprised by his abrupt change of topic. "...I know about the basics, positions and whatnot...but I've never been much of a fan."

"If I were to describe Batman in basketball terms, I would say that he would be a power forward. His position is both offensive and defensive."

Wayne has been listening attentively. Clark shrugs and smiles crookedly. "In fact, if anyone is a battering ram, it's Superman-- if there's trouble, he just punches a hole in a wall or something and barges in."

Wayne smiles as well, losing-- or perhaps simply hiding-- some of his intensity. "At least he stays for the clean-up," he remarks.

"It's polite to rebuild what you've destroyed in the first place, after all," Clark responds.

"Hm. I suppose so." For a moment, Bruce Wayne seems the most genuine he's been since Clark set eyes on him. And then he smiles that careless billionaire smile. "But I've been monopolizing your time and neglecting the rest of my guests. Do excuse me, Mr. Kant."

Clark kind of wants to do-- something, to get that smile off his face. Give him a look, maybe, like his Ma does when she's feeling reproachful. He tried it, once. Lois said he looked like someone had kicked his puppy, then ran it over with a car and didn't even bother to say sorry. "Kent," Clark says, as if the man didn't already know.

Yes..." Wayne's smile is perfectly bland as he gives him one last glance and turns away. "Enjoy the rest of the party, Mr. Kent."

 _Not likely_. "Thank you," Clark replies politely to Wayne's retreating back.

That man. Ugh. But...that one glimpse he had, of the person beneath the facade...

Clark is now exceedingly interested in what the real Bruce Wayne is like.

"Brucie!" a woman calls.

"Felicia!" 'Brucie' cries 'delightedly'.

Clark shivers, feeling somewhat appalled, and begins making his way through the crowd to the buffet table.

Richard Grayson is still there, chewing on an almond cluster. "Hey," he greets him. "Saw you talking to Bruce. Nice chat?"

"Mr. Wayne is an...interesting person," Clark answers diplomatically, and somewhat understatedly.

Grayson gives him a doubtful look like he is highly dubious as to Clark's reply and would not blame him at all if he found 'Brucie' the dullest dimwit to ever score an IQ test in the negative numbers.

Clark has no response to that look.

**Author's Note:**

> In this universe, Lana is very, very bisexual. Sorry, Clark. Michelle (who is my own creation) is just a really beautiful woman.
> 
> Also, I know nothing about basketball. I had to look up the positions.
> 
> The title is from an Emily Dickinson poem.
> 
> "Tell all the truth but tell it slant —  
> Success in Circuit lies  
> Too bright for our infirm Delight  
> The Truth's superb surprise  
> As Lightning to the Children eased  
> With explanation kind  
> The Truth must dazzle gradually  
> Or every man be blind —"


End file.
